13 Hallowed Nights: The Final Night
by Corvus no Genmu
Summary: Once upon a time he was called by many names, some good, some bad, some befitting, others just downright odd, but never was there a name that didn't fit him as well as this: Phantom.


**Disclaimer:** I own what is my own.

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_"__A legendary black dragon said to have prowled these lands from the days of old. Many skilled hunters have sought to challenge it, but none ever return.__"_

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**Thirteen Hallowed Nights**

**The Final Night:**

_"Awakenings"_

By Corvus no Genmu

The common dictionary dictates that ghosts are the disembodied souls of the departed, appearing before the living in a likeness of what they were once in life. This was a rather bland description to be sure but it was an accurate one towards ghosts as a whole. However, there begs the question whether the remains of the dead are all the same and the clear answer to that is another question.

Are people any different from one another?

What difference is there in a soul who died peacefully, surrounded by friends and family made over a lifetime to a soul whose life was tragically cut short before its time, its living body depraved beyond human measures before the mercy of death at long last befell them? What difference is there in they who died for their country and are thus forgotten by history as the winners and losers both? What difference is there in the death of a man who died as a hero but forever remembered as the darkest of villains?

So many different souls, so many different ends, it's a wonder the world as a whole has not run rampant with the departed but no, the dead do not remain to haunt the living. For you see, a long time ago there was a man sitting in the darkness of his cave, fearing that this was the night the sun would truly die forever and never rise again. As he sat shivering in the cold, he wished with all his might that the sun would rise again and as the sun is want to do, it do see that very next morning but the caveman, young in mind and spirit, believed that a force outside his comprehension heard his prayers and answered them.

Thus, the first god of man was born.

Perhaps, god is too strong a word for many to accept… a better word would perhaps be Incarnation for truly what god was there that did no represent an aspect of the mortal, a physical embodiment of wonder and fear? The Incarnations grew stronger with man's belief in their might, bathed in the power of their worship, drank from the sweet cups of love and dined on their delicious fear. However, so too did these Incarnations became stronger with every new man's disbelief, the harsh blades of truth cutting their flesh, the cruel sting of defeat as new Incarnations were born in the ashes of the old. Just like the civilizations of man, the Incarnations rose and fell but never did they die for so long as a single human soul believed in them, an Incarnation was as immortal as a god could be.

And with that immortality came the Hereafter, which in itself is not so much a place of existence as a _concept_ of existence for as said, belief is what gave birth to Incarnations past and present, so too did belief give existence to the realms of the dead and the departed. The worlds of the Hereafter are as unique to every dead soul that inhabits them and are each recognized instantly by the dead as what they believed in life. Many souls who've allowed even the tiniest hint of belief in their hearts find themselves in the Hereafter and so go to the realm they've earned in life.

The damned to whatever hellish plane that grants them their everlasting torment, the virtuous fly free in their heavenly clouds free in death from what they've endured in life, but what of the souls who do not go straight to these polar realms? Those that _refuse_ to accept their death whatever the cause of it? Those that had the power to fight tooth and nail against the Incarnations of Death to haunt and torment the living? Many failed to escape and those few that did were swiftly put to an end by whatever means were necessary.

Rejected by death, caught forever as spectral remains of themselves, these souls, these _ghosts_ made a realm all to their own in the empty corridors of the Hereafter, a place that many in the modern age refer as the Ghost Zone. A place as infinite as the souls the make it their home, the Ghost Zone was but a simple strand compared to the vast tapestry of the Hereafter but it was here that the many powerful of souls resided, including the most powerful soul of them all.

In life, he was but a simple man blessed perhaps by a kind hand of luck. Whatever it had been it was forgotten in a flash of a knife's blade for in life, this man was not destined for anything greater than what the common man could become but in death he earned a fate that would last him well in eternity.

The first true victim of murder.

Oh yes, many a living creature was killed but before this none had been killed intentionally for the sheer depraved joy of the act. It had always been for food, for life, that many a man killed another in battle just and fair. No, this was not an act of fairness nor did it hold a reason justifiable. The man was murdered and so in death became something great, something the likes of which the living world had never seen before.

The man had become a ghost.

* * *

Danny Fenton had faced all kinds of ghosts in his escapades as his ghostly alias of Danny Phantom. He had faced the wicked Undergrowth, the spectral embodiment of plants whose hatred for fauna of the world knew no boundaries and had come back with a mastery over ice. He stood against the dreadful Vortex, the poltergeist of hurricanes and, for a time, held that same power in his hands and stood like a god for all that it took before he realized that level of power was something no being should possess. He had even faced against a dark and terrible future where he had for all intents and purposes died and became a full-ghost the likes of which could not be equaled by any of his common rouge gallery, the same rouges that sat around him in fear not for that Dark Dan, but for someone else altogether.

Pariah Dark the Ghost King.

Huddled safely away from prying eyes in an abandoned hunting goods store, Danny let his eyes travel over the gathered ghosts and for the first time allowed himself to clearly see them for what they were. Skulker, the Ghost Zone's self-proclaimed greatest hunter with a body of futuristic armaments that gave him an unfair advantage in every hunt he took but considering the ghost's true form was that of prey rather than predator it was more sad than intimidating. Danny wondered what the man had been in life that he was so weak in death.

Nicolai Technus, a scientist whose obsession with machinery bordered on the fanatic who never ever seemed to shut up with his monologing was now strangely silent, his eyes downcast on the floor. Walker whose rules as warden were self-made and held in high regard though his law was generally ignored by most save for the guards of his prison. A man so proud of his law now stood alone to uphold it.

The Box Ghost and the Lunch Lady, two specters that had their own obsessions over what they were in life. Of the gathered ghosts they were perhaps the most mundane in power and ability but it was also they who likely died in similar times for the familiarity they silently expressed by clutching the hand of the other. Cute, but _really_ creepy.

Johnny 13 and his girlfriend Kitty stood in the dark corner of the shop where the biker's shadow stretched like a protective cloak over them both. They had died as teenagers and had all the confidence of one but that confidence was gone now and they were both clearly afraid for their after-lives.

Youngblood, the ghostly child forever caught in an endless game of pretend, was dressed in the guise of a pirate but where the game went as far as to actually inspire the lad to actually _be_ what he pretended, the reality of the situation made it all to clear that Youngblood for all his pretending of pirates and cowboys, was still a little boy. His little arms were wrapped tightly around the legs of Ember McLain who spared the boy the occasional withering glare but did not push him away.

With hair burning like fire and a personality to match, it was hard to imagine the rocker actually caring about anyone other than herself, that constant need to hear her name chanted by the masses of her fans always made her seem the most selfish of the ghosts but Danny had been curious one night not too long ago and listened to her music (with adequate protection of course) and he understood perhaps more than Ember actually wanted anyone to but he did. He did not know the details of her death but of the gathered ghosts here, hers was the most obvious to speculate.

The last ghost, the one who had ceased the hostilities between Danny and Skulker, was by far the oldest of them and the only one that Danny knew the most about. Alive when the sands of Arabia were young, she was a simple, if not gorgeous, harem girl who won the heart of a sultan and was promised all of heart's desires but the sultan's wife was a bitter piece of jealousy and had her banished from the kingdom. Desiree died of a broken heart not long after and became what she was now, a spectral genie who granted every wish she heard but twisted it sharply upon its ear.

All these powerful ghosts gathered like frightened rabbits before a monstrous beast… Just how strong is this so-called King of Ghosts that he commands such fear with the mere mentioning of his _name_? Yes, Danny had seen the faint twitching from the hardier Skulker and Walker, the flinching from the young and inexperienced Youngblood and teenagers Johnny 13 and Kitty, and the outright squeals of terror from the Box Ghost.

Pariah Dark had destroyed their homes in the Ghost Zone, injuring many of them and outright destroying what few dared to impede him in his search for his ring. His army composed of the soldiers of ages' past, of separate nations and separate times. All now stood united under a common flag and served the same will for they had none of their own. The Ghost King had done all this without the aid of his Ring of Rage… and Danny dared not imagine what would happen once he reclaimed it.

"We can't let him get it!" Danny Fenton rose to his feet a ring of spectral light shining across his form until he stood proudly as Danny Phantom, looking over the ghosts one-by-one. "But I'm gonna need all of you to help me put the Ghost King to sleep. I'll need you to battle against all odds, face untold danger, doom, and destruction with no guarantee of ever coming back! Who's with me?"

* * *

At the edge of Amity Park stood a young man at the end of his teenage years dressed entirely in shades of black and gray of notable distinction and yet maintaining a modernized casual look. Strapped at his side was a massive black sheathe of a katana that seemed to pulse like the beat of a heart. His hair, cut haphazardly and almost wild in its nature, was colored like ivory and his eyes; oh his eyes were like emeralds shining in the dark. A wedding ring adorns his left hand which holds a simple photograph in a tight grip.

On the photo is the man himself with a beautiful woman of Scottish descent sitting beside him on a loveseat. Her hair is like turquoise waves falling down her back and though she obviously the mature one of the pair she is dressed to impress with her cleavage neatly displayed and her leather pants fitting to the curves of her legs like a second skin. She is sitting with her legs across the man's own, a hand stroking the cloth of his chest but she has time enough to wink teasingly for the camera. On her hand is a matching wedding ring.

Behind them standing like a monolith was a man who appeared to be in the prime of his life with the muscles of one who has fought for everything he has. He was dressed from a recent stint of exercise that left a fine sheen of sweat on his brow and his hair, white with only faint streaks of gray to show its former obsidian, was brushed back with six long pigtails that fell along the curve of his back. His face was set like stone but there was a faint smile as he stood with arms crossed over his muscular chest.

At the feet of the couple sitting with her legs hugged to her chest was a young child of eight year with shining blue eyes and long hair black as moonless night, held back from her face by a hair band the color of the man's eyes. She is dressed in a pretty dress colored in faint shades of violet with blackened accents, a clear sign of her disfavor to the color white. She is smiling as she leans against the shoulder of another girl, this one her senior by four years more with fine brown hair cut short to the back of her neck. She wore a blouse of navy blue and a golden ribbon at the collar with a generous length of red dress. Her eyes were a faint brown and seemed almost empty were it not for the faint smile on her face as she kept an arm wrapped around the shoulders of the younger girl.

Last but not least was a simple black cat with an eye of amber and an eye of turquoise lying across the arm of the loveseat looking to the entire world that it owned that chair and it was through its good graces that the couple was allowed to sit there. There was no telling its breed though it was quite large for a housecat with a tail longer in length than its body.

All in all the picture showed a happy family and that was they were, but there was so much more to them than what appeared.

He tucked the photo away into his breast pocket and stared up at the dome of ecto-energy that surrounded Amity Park. This late in the night, the only ones nearby and awake were the military forces; no one would see him break in until it was too late to stop him. He slowly unsheathed his katana until the whole of the blade was revealed. Just as long as he was tall, excluding the massive hilt which appeared built for two pairs of hands. The actual blade portion of the sword was colored like fine wine while the so-called dull-side had a small series of blackened edges like flames flowing down the katana to its tip. Holding it tightly inn with both hands, the young man held the sword parallel to the ground.

"In yester years I was known by many names. In present time, I am called Jacque. In the coming years I may well earn more names for myself… but today, you will earn your name. You will make all that stand against you tremble in fear and you will show them what it means to stand against a god. Serve me well this day, _Divine Slasher!_"

Jacque raised the sword on high and brought it crashing down against the dome. A stream of red light crashed against the shield, coursing up along the sphere like lightning until the entire thing came crashing apart like fine glass. Jacque started running even as the shards of the field fell around him like monstrous hail. The moment he entered the city proper he knew instantly that something was wrong. He spared a glance at the sky and bit back a foul curse.

The sky was flash between starry night and the endless void of the Ghost Zone and with a sound like thunder breaking on the horizon, a castle appeared above the sky, a massive rip still formed behind it. Jacque recognized it for what it was and started running faster, sheathing the Divine Slasher as he raced towards Casper High's football field where the dome originated from.

* * *

Danny cursed his childishness once again as he stared up at the castle floating high above Amity Park. He had asked for help and he received none and what was his first plan of action after that? Getting into another pointless fight with his archenemy Vlad Masters AKA Vlad Plasmius. The elder halfa knew how to push the younger's buttons well and didn't hold anything back, verbally or otherwise. Plasmius _knew_ that Danny hated to be compared with him, hated the idea that his future was destined to be evil, and frankly Phantom was sick of hearing it.

Even as the shield crumbled down above them, Danny didn't think only react by pulling the Fright Knight's sword, the Soul Shredder, free from where it rested, dead center in Casper High's football field. Danny felt the familiar strange rush of power and he pushed back against it as much as he could, recalling the first time he heedlessly used the sword just in time to see Pariah Dark's castle appear above Amity Park with the Ghost King himself at the fore.

The Soul Shredder pulled itself free from Danny's hand, flying up to land in the grasp of the Fright Knight, the self-proclaimed Spirit of Halloween and master of the Soul Shredder and all its powers. Pariah Dark regarded the two below with clear disdain, his sole eye seeing the human hearts still beating beneath their ghostly exteriors. He raised a solitary hand and with a sudden sense of dread, Phantom and Plasmius realized that the clear aura of power surrounding the Ghost King was but a pale imitation for their adorning Pariah's middle finger was the Ring of Rage, its crimson eyes pulsing like a heartbeat before it flashed with power and a beam of crimson ecto-energy came crashing down upon the halfas with enough force to render them human.

At least, it would have had it connected with them both.

Danny felt something grab the back of his collar and he was pulled off his feet and well out of the way of the blast. Plasmius wasn't so lucky and by the looks of his human body, he wouldn't be up to anything more than an extensive stay in the hospital. Phantom glanced up at his savior and met intensely burning emerald eyes set in a human face.

"So you're that halfa I've been hearing so much about…" muttered Jacque, giving Danny a quick once-over before setting him down on his feet.

"Who the heck are you?" asked Danny, his eyes on Jacque's sword. _Is it me or does that thing have a pulse?_

But Jacque's eyes were no longer on Phantom; they were staring up into the sky at a black knight riding a night-mare with emerald sword in hand. Emerald eyes narrowed before it came to him in a flash. "You…"

Fright Knight's own eyes were narrowed as he stared down at the young man below while Pariah Dark stared down amused with what he was sure to be quite the show for he knew just who, and _what_, Jacque was. This was going to get messy and he'd rather watch the proceedings in the comfort of his throne room. He faded away from sight with a cruel smile on his face.

He had some old friends to meet with after all…

Jacque flew upwards in a massive leapt, the Divine Slasher cutting the night-mare's head asunder, its blade just missing the Fright Knight's neck. The spectral knight leapt free from his dead steed and landed roughly on his feet. He spared a glare at the remains of his horse before turning burning eyes upon Jacque.

"I know not your quarrel with me, whelp but—" He raised the Soul Slasher just in time to block a swipe that would have cut him asunder had he hesitated. "Graa! Strong for a human aren't you?"

"Who said I was human, you traitorous scum?" Jacque growled. Fright Knight's eyes widened at the sound of Jacque's voice. Jacque pushed back with all his strength, sending the knight back stumbling on his feet but he remained ready for another vicious assault. "Do you remember me, Fright Knight? Do you remember the oath you swore to me, the oath that you broke?"

"Impossible… The Observants, they assured me that you were dead!"

"I _am_ dead!" Jacque shot forward and cut the football goal like a tree. Fright Knight was up and flying away and Jacque gave chase after him, running with all his power even as the ghostly knight unleashed beams of nightmarish power from the Soul Shredder, turning the environment against Jacque in a most literal way. A mailbox became a massive tower of snapping jaws with acidic teeth; a lamp-post became a tentacles beast that tossed fire every which way it could.

The Divine Slasher flashed like crimson light, and whatever that stood between Jacque and his prey, but for every one he cut down five more appeared in its place until, with a terrible scream of anger, Jacque swung the Divine Slasher with all his might up at the Fright Knight. A wave of reddish light flew like an arc through the air but the Fright Knight dropped like a stone beneath the attack which carried on until it struck the nearby Fenton Work's, cleaving the top accessories of the building away into ash on the wind just as the anti-ghost field was about to deploy.

Using his conjured monsters as cover, the Fright Knight flew forward and met Jacque blade for blade, each exchanging strikes at blinding speeds until they were deadlocked once again.

"Do you have _any_ idea what you've done to me?" growled Jacque, pushing with all his might against Fright Knight but the specter had the strength of a ghost against Jacque's mortal body. "My kind weren't meant to be mortal you _idiot!_ You've upset the Balance for centuries to come with your betrayal and for what? My _scythe?_"

"The Soul Shredder serves me better than it ever did you! And one more thing," Fright Knight's eyes lit up and he unleashed a blast of ecto-energy that sent Jacque flying back, skidding painfully against the ground. He sheathed the Soul Shredder and turned his back upon Jacque. "I don't _believe_ in you any longer."

"Henh… don't you dare… turn your back… on me!" Jacque pushed himself back on his feet and raced forward to cut the Fright Knight down but the ghost flew up and away, back towards Pariah's castle as it moved to the outskirts of the city. Jacque watched him go with clear disdain in his eyes and noted how the grounds that supported the castle were expanding outwards as if in need of the extra space… "Oh… that… isn't good."

"Okay, I don't know who you are but I demand some answers!" Jacque turned and saw Phantom touching down. The half-ghost brandished a handful of ecto-energy at Jacque. "Who, or what, are you?"

"I'm… a friend. Call me Jacque." He made a show of looking Phantom over. "You are younger than I thought you'd be… you are a smart boy but intelligence does not equal experience… You would lead the ghosts to war?" He snorted. "You know nothing of war…"

Danny scowled, feeling a familiar sense of déjà vu with the older boy. "Yeah? Do you think you know any more than me?"

Jacque inclined his head, a strange smile on his pale face. "I am not familiar with War but I am acquainted but tell me young Phantom… do you think yourself capable of standing up to the Ghost King and winning his crown?"

"What? Why would I—"

"Because by now I'm sure…" Jacque winced at a faint twitch of pain but ignored it, "that Pariah has seen to the destruction of the sarcophagus that imprisoned him. As I see it, you've only three options left. Option one, you take your family, run, and start praying… and hope that your God is in a listening mood."

"Yeah, so not doing that." Danny stated with a cold scowl.

"As I expected. Option two, you try and seal Pariah up a different way. You may try with your technology but it will fail you all the same."

"Oh yeah? And how would you know that?"

"Think, Danny!" snapped Jacque. He was in pain so of course he'd be a little snappish with the boy. "If it were truly so easy to seal Pariah up, would all the ghosts be fleeing for their after-lives rather than standing up against him?"

"Uh… okay, point there… Well, what's option three then?"

"Option three… is to do what no one has ever done before… You must face Pariah in combat. You must fight him with _everything_ you have and claim his crown as yours."

"Yeah, that doesn't sound impossible."

"That's not the hard part. In order to claim his crown… you have to destroy him."

"What? You can't mean—"

"I do. You have to kill him, Danny Phantom. You have to kill Pariah Dark."

* * *

Sitting down with her arms wrapped painfully tight around Nibi, Samara stared with wide-eyes as the news continued on to show what had to be the most incredible thing she had ever seen in her life and considering just who and what she was, that was truly saying something. A hand gently squeezed her shoulder and she glanced up at Red, who smiled reassuringly at the young girl, her eyes filled with cold determination. Though clear on the other side of the country, Amity Park's sudden plague of ghosts did not necessarily mean that it would remain localized for long if the numbers continued to grow as they did.

"It'll be okay… Grampa is here to protect us…" Red whispered. Samara turned to look at the chair that the man himself occupied as he stared grimly at the television.

A flash of emerald fire and Morrigan was in the living room looking as though she was supporting the biggest headache known to man. She collapsed onto the empty love-seat with a groan.

"Are you alright, Mommy?" asked Samara, relaxing her grip on Nibi somewhat.

"I'm fine, darling… just had to deal with some Makai politics is all… this whole thing with Pariah Dark has got—" She cut herself off as the girls gasped in surprise as Algol crushed his cup of coffee in his hands. As the reporter continued babbling on, it showed a view of the castle of Pariah Dark where a massive skeletal army was assembled. From afar, it merely looked as though the castle had a generous growth of grass surrounding it but upon closer inspection it was truly an army that bordered well into the millions, but it was not the army itself that surprised the family.

There at the end of the massive cliff standing with a small gathering of ghosts in clear opposition to Pariah's army was Jacque.

Morrigan shot to her feet, her true form appearing in a flash of demonic fire but Algol was there in front of her. "I dare you to try and stop me Algol."

Algol shook his head. "You're not going anywhere. Not without me. He's important to me too, Morrigan."

"Fine…" she sighed, before she shot a warning glare at the two girls. "You will stay here where it's safe. No arguments."

Seeing no argument from them, Morrigan slowly spread her wings out to surround them as purple energy began to dance around them. At the last possible moment, Samara and Red leapt into their adopted mother's arms just in time to be teleported away.

From where it landed on the floor, Nibi slowly licked a forepaw before sparing a glance at the television screen. A flash of black flames and it too was gone.

* * *

Things weren't looking good for them, Jacque realized as he cut down another dozen soldiers with his sword. Oh yes, the soldiers were easy to destroy but the sheer number of them was overwhelming even with the ghosts that appeared to help him and Danny make way into the castle with the boy himself armed in that ridiculous mechanical suit. At least the halfa had a fighting chance against Pariah and was well into the castle thanks to the combined efforts of Desiree and Skulker.

"Jacque you lying bastard!" A sudden blast of demonic fire exploded like napalm as a familiar bat-winged form flew down to knock Jacque flat on his back. He gasped in surprise but found his lips busy in a meeting with his wife's own as Morrigan ravaged the inside of his mouth with her tongue. Pulling back and smiling brilliantly though her eyes were aglow with her anger, the succubus told Jacque in no uncertain terms that they would be having a long talk when they got back about how his irresponsibility was infecting their children.

She flew off with a delighted laugh, launching a fresh new attack against the hordes of skeletons before Jacque had a chance to ask for clarification when he got it in the form of a battle-saw flying through the air like a serrated discus. He tracked the weapon until it was caught by a familiar young girl.

"Red? Samara?" Yes, his girls were there and fighting with everything they had. Red with her trademark redcap and battle-saw, was cutting down whole scores of soldiers that approached her as she stood with her back against Samara whose hair moved in an unseen wind as every skeleton before her eyes crumbled to dust.

Glancing the opposite way, Ember just had to ask, "Please tell me that guy is with you?"

Jacque turned and saw Algol in full battle armor with his hands aglow with the lights of his signature weapons, cutting down any soldier that dared to approach him but while the others that fell soon reassembled themselves, all that fell to Algol's power did not rise again, their souls either devoured or purified by the powers he contained.

"He is. Best you go and tell the others to not get too close to him." Jacque lopped off a soldier's head and stabbed another in the gut, tossing it like a bowling ball into another group.

"I'm gonna regret askin' but why?"

"Do the names Soul Calibur and Soul Edge ring a bell to you?"

Ember's hair nearly snuffed itself out. "Shit!" She was off like a flaming rocket, screaming at the others to clear away from the old, glowing guy and smacked anyone who questioned her about it. Jacque couldn't help but chuckle when a sudden primordial scream rent the air. He looked up just in time to see the sun suddenly became eclipsed as a massive demonic bat came diving down not at him but at his wife.

She was slammed into the ground, her hands held up above her head and her legs pinned down.

"Hello my dear…"

Morrigan's eyes snapped open in disbelief before they narrowed in anger. "Demitri?"

Seeing the danger their mother was in, Samara and Red started to race towards her when the soldiers suddenly parted before them to reveal a quivering mass of black that sent a cold shiver up Samara's spine and stopped Red dead in her tracks as she realized just what that mass of darkness was even before it took shape of a monstrous wolf with a single gleaming white eye.

"The Big Bad Wolf…"

Algol raised a hand, intending to blast his way forward when he suddenly was met with a gunshot to the face. It impacted with an explosion of soul-infused energy, enough to actual send him back half-a-step from the pain of the strike. He growled and turned to glare at a man that the Soul Edge within him recognized for it was well acquainted with the man. "Cervantes de Leon I presume."

_How… How was this happening?_ There was no way for all three of them to be here, some more so than others! Cervantes was _dead_! Dead for several centuries now so how was he here alive and in his prime _before_ Soul Edge's taint on his corpse? As for Big Bad, the damnable wolf was a creation of Grimmoire! No matter its obsession with her, it should not have been capable of chasing Red all the way here! Unless…

A voice cried out to him, lost in the roar of battle and Jacque whirled on his feet, the Divine Slasher flying away from his hands. He grunted and tasted the coppery flavor of blood in his mouth before he slowly looked down to see a mortal sword imbedded into his heart gripped by the armored hand of the Fright Knight.

"This time…" Fright Knight twisted the blade deeper. "_Stay_ dead."

* * *

Danny was panting for breath as he kneeled in the remains of the ecto-skeleton, his similarly damaged copies vanishing one by one until he was the only one left. Pariah Dark stood tall over him wielding a massive war axe in his hand and glaring down at Phantom with open disdain. The battle had been difficult in the beginning but the boy had used a generous amount of his power just trying to get to his throne room. Had he been at full strength at the beginning, the lad might have actually won.

And that wasn't a chance Pariah dare to take a second time.

He raised his axe on high but paused when he heard a faint whistling sound before the wall to his throne room was blasted open as Jacque's sword came flying in to pierce the ground before Danny Phantom. The halfa was surprised by the sword's sudden appearance but seeing the war-axe coming down for his neck, he reached up and grasped it. Like the Soul Shredder, a sudden surge of power sudden flooded throw the halfa but unlike the emerald blade, Danny dared not reject it. In fact, he welcomed it with everything he had and in that instant he became more than just the ghost of a teenage boy.

A jewel the size of a baseball appeared at the base of Danny's neck, a small ovular jewel where a dark slit stared outwards very much like an eye as a massive white cape flow back like wings from Danny's shoulders. His uniform no longer resembled a standard jumpsuit but one would expect from a full-fledged hero and was now far more stylized than ever before with his symbol glowing brightly at his chest. In his hands, the Divine Slasher roared with the chorus of dragons as its energies pulsed in place of Danny's silent heart.

He became a full-bodied _phantom_.

* * *

Morrigan saw Jacque fall back and with him so did her world start to crumble around her as the bond between them started to die like ash on the wind. She trembled as tears fell from her eyes before a cruel laugh brought her eyes back up to her attacker. Now in his near-human form Demitiri Maximoff resembled every bit the old century nobleman that he had been in life but the disgusting leer in his eyes as he stared at her was unmistakable. With her husband dead and the bound between them gone, there was nothing to stop Demitiri from claiming her as his for at that precise moment, Morrigan honestly didn't think she'd have the resolve to kill him.

_Kindness melts away the wretched slimes of envy…_

Algol roared his fury as his might overwhelmed the gathered soldiers and blasted them away into dust but Cervantes still remained standing for he had a living body to anchor his soul away from the fangs of Soul Edge and the touch of Soul Calibur. Algol had not seen the killing blow but he had felt the light of Jacque's soul suddenly diminish and he knew he had no more time to waste in holding back. His family was in danger.

_A patient hand rectifies the wrath of the wicked._

Red's world was falling apart before her eyes with her adopted father suddenly falling back dead by a sword in his heart. She imagined the blood on her hands, the blade's hilt still cold in her iron grip though it wasn't her that did it she still blamed herself all the same. Her first family died because of her, it made sense that her second one would die just the same…

_The cool touch of temperance masters the untamed flames of lust._

Samara was staring in horror as the blood pooled out from beneath Jacque's unmoving body. Her mother was losing the will to live, her sister was breaking, and her grandfather was struggling to make some kind of difference and all she could do was stand and watch as her father died before her eyes. _No… No…_ "NOOOOO!"

_Generosity brings together the broken pieces of avarice._

Desiree felt cold dread make a pit of her stomach as she realized that all hop was truly lost. "I wish… that there was another way…" Unbeknownst to her, her magic activated, granting her own true selfless wish and a piece of paper suddenly appeared in front of a startled Ember McLain. She snatched it out of midair and slowly read its contents aloud. "Though I know I should be wary, still I venture someplace scary? Ghostly hauntings I turn loose, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice?"

A crack of lightning lit up the sky as a deranged voice cackled about the battlefield before the ground exploded violently upwards in the midst of the reassembling soldiers, blasting away their remains to the four corners as a poltergeist appeared in all his pin-striped glory. He grinned revealing disgusting yellowed teeth.

"It's showtime!"

_Zealous actions clear away the dusty cobwebs of sloth._

Fright Knight stood over the body with cold disdain, clearly uncaring of its fate after death and turned his back upon it, only to receive a powerful punch to the face by a massive red-stoned fist. He was sent flying back and plowed through several soldiers before stopping himself to stare at the being that dared to strike him.

"What the hell?"

"Close, but no cigar." Hellboy gripped his fist tightly and charged forward as the stone runes alit themselves with hellish light.

_Humility shatters the false ideals built of pride's arrogance._

Jacque laid there dead as any man would be from a sword to the chest even as Nibi slowly stepped forward, its twin tails swishing along behind it as it stared at the corpse with narrowed eyes. It wondered not for the first time if this was truly how it was all to end but it knew it was to be the moment Jacque freed it from the guts of that awful rage-driven curse. Nibi slowly climbed atop Jacque's chest until it stood staring down at the man's face. Its body flashed for a moment, revealing a strange talisman floating in place of where the nekomata stood.

Jacque's finger twitched, a faint shadow of a worker's glove appearing over the pale flash.

Nibi's tails began to swerve and dance, carving intricate designs into the air as lightning started to flash in various hues in the sky above. The other Incarnations were aware of what was happening and if there was heart left in any of them they would help.

Lightning came crashing down and struck the blade's hilt, sending several thousand gigawatts of power coursing through the nekomata and it used that energy to unleash the full potential of its power. A feline's loud yowl echoed across the battlegrounds but still the individual battles continued until a new sound brought everything to a screeching halt.

Laughter.

Jacque stood alive and well, his wound gone, the sword naught but molten steel at his feet. He stood there laughing like a lunatic as he glowed like a star before unleashing his power in a massive way that wiped out the remaining soldiers in one fell swoop as he assumed his true and rightful form.

The creature towered at a height of eight feet with the body of an adult man with limbs too long, too stretched, to be human in nature. The hands flexed and blades ripped through cloth to replace normal fingers. A glimmering fedora of deep violet with a shining red feather moving gently as though there was a gentle autumn's wind flowing through the air sat atop the thing's head which was that of a large jack-o-lantern that smiled and stared with emerald fires dancing in its skull.

"**_I…_**" Emerald fire lit up in clawed hands. "**_Am…_**" Skeletal wings of a bird burst from his back, ebony feathers flying. "**_Alive!_**"

In an instant Jacque was before a stunned Samara and Red, his long branchy arms wrapped around them in a hug before he took off into the air with them, his head turning completely about to unleash a massive blast of emerald fire that vanquished the construction of the Big Bad Wolf.

Seeing him alive and in his true form, Morrigan realized the full truth of who she had married as the bond renewed itself between them, giving her a sudden overcharge of energy. She screamed and unleashed a beam of concentrated youki straight from her torso that sent Demitiri up and away into the sky only for his heart to be pierced by Jacque's claws.

Pulling the man close as he clutched his adopted children close with one arm, Jacque whispered to Demitiri. "**_That was for my wife._**" The bladed claws sliced through Demitiri's heart, cutting it to pieces as the vampire lord burst into ash on the wind. "**_But that was for Eli._**"

Inspired, and confused by the boy's transformation, Algol reacted just as strongly to his return as Morrigan and summoned both blades to him and moving at near light speed, cut Cervantes head clean from his shoulders, the rest of his body falling to pieces as the man slowly walked away.

Jacque landed next to a smirking Hellboy and wordlessly handed his children over to the red-skinned devil before turning his burning eyes to a thoroughly frightened Fright Knight.

"**_Soul Shredder. To me._**" The blade flew free from the knight's grip and in Jacque's hand twisted upon itself until it was a massive war-scythe whose staff was made of pure obsidian while the curved blades were a shining emerald with a pumpkin resting as the weapon's crown. Jacque smiled and caressed the weapon like an old friend. "**_Well, well… how the tables have turned…_**"

"This… This impossible!"

"**_Improbable._**" Jacque argued. "**_After all, nothing is impossible. Goodbye._**" A flash of emerald steel and the Fright Knight's head flew through the air to land at the door to Pariah's castle.

"Daddy?" An awed whisper from Samara turned Jacque's attention down to the young girl as she stared up at him in open-mouthed surprise. "Are you… like mommy?"

"No honey he isn't." Morrigan was suddenly beside him, leaning against him as her hand stroked the feathers of his wings. "He's something else entirely."

Jacque winced and actually looked worried. "**_I suppose I have a bit of explaining to do don't I?_**"

"Oh most assuredly dear but I think that can wait." The door to Pariah's castle slowly opened and a lone figured stepped out with a flame crown resting atop a head of snow, a hand bedecked with a jewel of green and gripping a crimson sword. Once upon a time he was called by many names, some good, some bad, some befitting, others just downright odd, but never was there a name that didn't fit him as well as this:

Phantom.

* * *

_The King is dead! Long live the King!_


End file.
